


As Good As You Want

by Yeah_JSmith



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: An Overabundance of Plaid Flannel, Cunnilingus, Engineer Skye, F/F, Guilt, Judge Me Or Not I Like It, Look This Is Partially a Love Letter to the Lesbian Aesthetic, Massage, Mentions of Systemic Police Problems, Soft Ladies Being Sweet, Work Issues, release, wholesome lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 12:19:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeah_JSmith/pseuds/Yeah_JSmith
Summary: In an AU where Skye was the fox who helped solve the Night Howler case, Judy's had a hard day at work. Skye helps her relax.





	As Good As You Want

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some wholesome lesbian content, and I'm apparently now lowkey shipping Judy/Skye. I'm probably not going to revisit this 'verse, but I think I dump enough info at the beginning that you get a pretty decent idea of their history before the cute soft smut. Sorry about the awkward exposition, but the emotional payoff/smut is the point, really. Tbh you can skip the entire first part and read the smut if you want, the story is a vehicle unless you, like me, enjoy soft lesbians supporting each other through hard times and plaid flannel invading things it shouldn't.

It wasn’t that Judy resented Skye’s new job with Boneing. Really. Skye had worked hard to get where she was, and her gorgeous vixen was doing something she loved, and after all the weird stuff they’d been through, Judy wouldn’t have a leg to stand on anyway. She just resented the long hours and inflexible schedule. And maybe, just a little, she resented the part where Skye had to work at all. If Judy had her way, Skye Winter, her partner and best friend, would just get to laze around all day eating cakes and designing spaceships or whatever her big beautiful heart desired.

Being what and who they were, though, they both had to work to afford the life they’d built together. So Judy curled up on the couch alone, nose buried in one of Skye’s soft flannel shirts, feeling like a creep and hoping the scent would soothe her enough to pull her out of her funk.

The shirt smelled like coffee and pen ink and the floral spray Skye wore to work as a sort of passive statement against the aggressively masculine culture: she was there, she was female, she wasn’t going to change herself or get driven out by sexist jokes or harassment or MR suggesting that maybe she ought to be a little nicer and maybe they’ll stop giving her trouble. It also, beneath all of that, smelled of vixen, and of Judy. It was the shirt Skye had been wearing when they’d met years ago when an angry gazelle had kicked a dent in the parking enforcement cart — blue and pink plaid, soft as anything, with a butterfly patch over a hole at the bottom. Skye had been kind then, helping Judy fix the cart with ease, and the’d formed an immediate friendship.

Ever since then, they’d been standing up for each other or helping each other one way or another. When Judy had gotten the Otterton case, Skye had immediately volunteered to share her resources. When Skye had been threatened by some angry anti-fox bigots, Judy had come to her defense. Skye had regularly texted and video called Judy when she’d been on “administrative leave” in Bunnyburrow before Gideon had given that inadvertent clue, and Judy had pushed Skye into leaving her job as a mechanic for a position she’d been coveting even though she was afraid her species would disqualify her. Dating felt like an extension of their friendship rather than the “something more” mammals always talked about, and moving in together…

Well, some stereotypes were true, but that was okay. They’d been living together for longer than they’d actually  _ been together,  _ so did the stereotype really apply?

Judy sniffed the shirt again. Skye would be home any minute, and she knew she should probably put the shirt back in the hamper before her girlfriend came in and caught her being pathetic, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. One of their rules was that no matter what the world expected of them, they were allowed to be sad at home. They were allowed to hurt and be pathetic and even curl up and cry, if they had to.

(Judy hadn’t actually had to, yet, but it felt good to know that she  _ could.) _

The shirt was so soft…

The door opened loudly and Judy jumped in her seat on their soft plaid sofa. She must have fallen asleep with her face in Skye’s shirt; it was a miracle she hadn’t drooled on it. Even through her sleep-thick muddle, she couldn’t help but smile as she turned to take in the  _ very welcome  _ sight of her girlfriend.

Skye was a leucistic red vixen with thick, luxurious fur and expressive blue eyes. When they’d met, Skye had been in the habit of filing her claws down to almost nothing, but in recent years, she’d allowed them to grow out, and Judy liked to kiss each one to remind her it was okay to be herself. Today, she was wearing some dark denim, actual  _ boots,  _ and her favorite cork leather jacket, one which fit her curves perfectly and completed the sexy biker look. It would have been a good idea to jump off the couch and run to her and give her a big hug, but Judy sat still, wide-eyed.

Sometimes she just...was too stunned to do anything. Sometimes she felt so lucky that Skye even breathed in her direction. After the day she’d had, her heart was already hurting; she didn’t tend to go in for self-loathing or self-pity, but suddenly her stomach lurched, and she wondered  _ why,  _ Skye deserved so much  _ better,  _ and she blinked back hot, stinging wetness.

“Oh, honey,” said Skye, and shut the door gently behind her. Judy buried her face in the shirt again, embarrassed, and a bit irritated with herself for being embarrassed in the first place. She trusted Skye, and it was  _ okay to be sad.  _ It was. 

With her eyes closed, the sound of leather on leather was almost deafening, and the swish of Skye’s jeans sounded a little obscene. Judy felt the whole sofa move when Skye sat next to her and felt as though she could nestle into the sound when the vixen said, “C’mere, Cupcake.”

Judy scrambled to take her place in Skye’s arms. The unfortunate effect of being so small was that even when Judy was trying to protect and comfort her girlfriend, she usually ended up being held instead of doing the holding. At first, it had been hard for Judy to give up that much control, but it felt good now —  _ especially  _ now. Skye smelled like flowers and coffee and wind, and cut grass, and the residue from her motorbike, and, well, she just smelled like  _ home.  _ It felt so good to press her nose to Skye’s neck and inhale her scent while Skye rocked back and forth, a quirk of fox culture that Judy liked a lot. No matter how hard things got, Skye was home, and home was safe. The shirt under her cheek was soft, collared, and Judy knew that if she opened her eyes to look she’d see more plaid flannel.

It wasn’t that they necessarily  _ embraced  _ stereotypes. Judy just...was a farm girl by upbringing, and Skye had cultivated a specific aesthetic before she and Judy had found each other. It wasn’t like you could just walk around with a big sign saying  _ HELLO, I’M QUEER,  _ so sometimes fashion had to be a language.

Deep breaths.

Thinking about the little things helped. What they wore didn’t matter, but it helped bring Judy back from the big feelings she didn’t like or even really understand. She could think about Skye’s pretty manicured claws while they protectively clutched Judy’s shoulders, and bit by bit she ironed out the kinks in her mood. She wasn’t okay, but that was okay. Sometimes she had trouble sharing the load, as it were, but that was okay, too; Skye had ways of helping her talk. It was a matter of headspace. 

At home, nobody had to be strong. Nobody had to be perfect. Nobody had to be anything. Judy had, for example, spent hours petting and grooming Skye while she stuttered through a particularly painful account of the jerk from work making creepy, sexually threatening comments; Skye tended to go straight for the big guns and flood Judy’s system with norepinephrine, oxytocin, all those feel-good hormones that came with a good orgasm so that Judy couldn’t be too critical of her own thoughts and decide not to say them. It was a cheap trick. It was what Judy usually needed. 

“Someone had a shit day,” Skye said unnecessarily.

Judy laughed, and it was shaky, but it wasn’t false. “Maybe a little.”

Claws in her fur, running down the length of her ears. It felt so good; Skye was gentle, but she never treated Judy like a delicate thing. Instead of feeling fragile, Judy felt precious, and maybe it was silly, but the distinction was important to her. In a world where everyone assumed she was less-than because of her species, it felt good to be valued. The claws continued over and over as Skye asked, “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Judy said immediately, and unconvincingly. It was reflex. “I mean yes.”

“Can you?”

“I...um, y e s?”

The way Judy’s word dragged itself out gave up the game, though, and she knew it, and so did Skye, who clutched Judy even more tightly. “Stop it. You’re letting them win again.”

“I know, I just...I don’t know what’s wrong,” she replied truthfully. “Just had a bad day and I missed you. There’s nothing scary or weird or anything about that.”

“Then let’s get you feeling better.”

Without warning, Skye stood up straight, carrying Judy with her, and then tossed her into the air a little. The first time she’d done this, Judy had screeched and clung to her like a freaked-out little barnacle, but now, it made her laugh despite her mood. As a rule, she didn’t like to be handled like that; it was different with mammals she trusted, though. Her partner at work was allowed to carry her if necessary as well, albeit for  _ far  _ more professional reasons. 

Their shared apartment was rather eclectic. The hallway to their bedroom was haphazardly lined with picture frames: teenage Skye in her angry goth phase scowling at the camera, a candid shot of teenage Judy in her cheer uniform standing tiptoe on the bumper of Sharla’s truck diagnosing the engine, Skye paw-feeding Judy some carrot cake, a stock photo of a sunset, Skye’s parents making silly faces, Judy’s parents and closest siblings, a juvenile rainbow cross-stitch that Judy’s niece Cotton had lovingly crafted and mailed to them. Their bedroom looked like someone had taken a bucket of sentimental items, thrown it through the window, and let a five-year-old sort it out; their horrendously tacky tapestry of Penguin’s  _ Sappho  _ featured prominently on the far wall, but Skye had otherwise taken it upon herself to decorate the walls with removable astronomy stickers, Judy’s stuffed bunnies crowded sadly on the unused rocking chair in the corner, and the blue-and-pink-striped comforter looked like it’d been temporally displaced from someone’s 1986 Winnedingo Elandan. (Given Skye’s penchant for repurposing, that was actually pretty likely.)

The sheets, hanging out from the half-made bed, were flannel. Blue and white plaid. That one wasn’t even their fault; Skye’s sister had taken a look around the apartment, deemed it “incurably gay,” and sent over the sheets as a housewarming gift.

Skye set Judy down on the bed with care, grinning like only a fox could, and said, “One of these days I’m going to fatten you up, Hopps.”

Judy snorted. “How? You can’t cook any better than I can.”

“Not sure yet.” Skye kneeled at the edge of the bed and ran a teasing claw down Judy’s torso and nudged the tails of her shirt up; Judy shuddered at the sensation. “Maybe I’ll learn.” She leaned down and blew on Judy’s navel scar, which turned the shudder into a smaller quiver. “All I know is you’re delectable.”

“Oh, come on,” she complained, “that’s so ch—  _ ooh.” _

Skye looked pleased with herself for the way she’d managed to make Judy arch off the bed with a stroke and quick scratch of her claws along Judy’s chest below her shirt. After an embarrassing accident at work, Judy had needed to get her whole chest buzzed, and she was still sensitive even though the fur was growing back in; Skye knew that, and shamelessly took advantage of it. Because of Skye’s self-esteem issues, and her lingering worries about their size difference, Judy never hid what she did or didn’t like; Skye knew she didn’t mind. 

“I wanna take your clothes off,” she said, fingering the button of Judy’s jeans. “I missed you too.”

“Just don’t rip them. I like this outfit,” Judy teased, running her paws through Skye’s headfur. It wasn’t soft, exactly; it was coarse on top, but underneath it was fluffy as anything, and that was Judy’s favorite part. It always made Skye melt.

Skye, to her credit, still managed to grumble, “One time.  _ One time,  _ and you hold it against me forever.”

“I’d rather just hold  _ me  _ against you forever.”

“Oh God, that was terrible.” Skye pulled back and undid the button and zip quickly, giving Judy an unimpressed look. “If you start punning, I’m taking the dishware and leaving you.”

“Anything but the  _ dishes,”  _ Judy pretended to wail, wriggling out of her jeans while Skye pulled from the bottom.

“And the succulents.”

“Fiend!”

“Just don’t crack any more bad jokes and you won’t have to worry. Your shirt has too many buttons, Jude.”

She nodded rapidly in agreement. It was a nice, comfy shirt, but right then, it  _ did  _ have too many buttons; her fingers joined Skye’s in the rush to undo them all. The feeling of being stripped —  _ undone —  _ alone, quickly, feet hanging off the bed on either side of Skye’s torso, was thrilling. She allowed herself to be moved upward so that her girlfriend could hover over her between her thighs on their queen-sized bed. Skye was still fully dressed, and probably intended to stay that way for a while, and that was thrilling too; Judy felt  _ seen.  _ She pulled her arms out of her shirt and arched up again when Skye leaned forward to mouth at her pulse point, the smallest scrape of fang reminding them both  _ exactly  _ what they were.

All jokes aside, Judy was a vulnerable species. An oddity amongst her own kind, yes, but not impervious to harm. The ultimate thrill was that Skye  _ could  _ hurt her, but never  _ would.  _ She trusted Skye with her heart  _ and  _ her body, and that served them both. She threw her arms around Skye’s neck when the vixen sucked again, then kissed along the line of her neck down into her collarbones; Skye’s scent was overwhelming and beautiful, and she felt so  _ solid,  _ and already Judy felt better just being able to be present with the mammal she loved.

“I lo-” She gasped at the feeling of Skye’s thumb trailing down, down, past her navel scar and over her smooth cotton undies. It was  _ so good,  _ everything was — it was all so  _ perfect,  _ with the sun shining through the cracks in their stupid yellow curtains and landing right on Skye’s shoulders, the oscillating fan providing the right kind of breeze to ruffle their fur, the pure, sweet physicality. Skye nibbled a trail down Judy’s torso, not biting hard enough to hurt, but with enough pressure to add a kick of adrenaline to the whole experience. After a few more false starts, which made Skye’s lips turn up into a self-satisfied smile, Judy finished, “I love you, Skye.”

Large, firm paws pressed down on Judy’s hips as Skye replied, “That’s good to hear. I put a lot of effort into you.” She nipped at Judy’s belly. “It’d be a shame if all that went to waste.”

“C’mon, Skye, don’t tease me.”

The nibbling got even gentler, gentle enough to tickle. Judy’s body writhed as best it could with Skye’s paws holding it still, and then the vixen answered, “But you’re just so delicious when you’re riled up.”

“You're a brat,” Judy said, trying to sound firm through her trembling and amusement, but Skye was always at her most adorable during her moments of play. 

“Then spank me later, if you have the energy,” Skye replied, unrepentant, before licking a smooth, wide line along Judy's labia.

_ Oh. _

Judy wanted to say something snappy and clever about not waiting till later, but she was afraid Skye would call her bluff, and then she’d have to sit up and play chicken with a vixen who would most definitely accept a spanking  _ just to prove a point.  _ It wouldn’t even matter that the point was stupid; Skye just liked to win, even if it meant losing. But Judy enjoyed the sensation of Skye’s knuckles massaging the opening of her vagina through the soft cotton — enjoyed it  _ far  _ too much to do something dumb to sabotage the moment. So she shut her mouth and allowed the soft, steady treatment to relax her.

Until Skye, she’d never really known all the different ways sex could be used. It had been a quick and dirty thing, primarily a release mechanism for both parties to stop thinking for a few minutes. But right now, even though Skye had her mouth and paws on Judy’s most sensitive intimate parts, there was none of that rush, none of the frenzy. She was more relaxed than she was wound up now, less lusty and more in love than ever. Skye kept the pressure light but steady and didn’t pay much attention to Judy’s clitoris; it was just a  _ very  _ personal massage, and Judy hummed happily as the last of her tension seemed to seep into the sheets (and the wrinkled, open shirt) below her.

After pressing a light kiss to Judy’s vulva, Skye pushed up onto her knees, took one of Judy’s feet in her paws, and said, “There, that’s better. Let’s start over. What’s bothering you, Cupcake?”

Judy took a moment to gather her thoughts and enjoy the feeling of Skye’s firm paws kneading the interior fascia of her foot. It hurt a little, as was to be expected, but Skye knew how to soothe the pain before it became a problem. Finally, Judy closed her eyes and answered, “I guess it’s just all the little things. They build up so slowly and then I have a day where even the silliest thing feels like a kick in the face. There was this koala talking behind my back, and I never take that kind of stuff personally-” She stopped and appreciated the sharp twinge and immediate relief when Skye pushed her foot upward with a shoulder and forcibly bent her knee, knuckling her soleus as she did so. "Oh, Skye, you’re magical. I don’t know why I took it personally this time. And I had to look a vixen in the eye today and tell her I was sorry, but there was nothing I could do about her daughter getting muzzled by a group of bullies at an Acorn Scouts meeting except give her the number for social services. It just — sometimes doesn’t seem worth it. I deal with all of this stuff, all the microaggressions and more blatant speciesism and all the things I  _ can’t  _ do within the confines of the law, and for what? The chance to  _ maybe  _ bring in a genuine scumbag? Or maybe the perp was forced into a life of crime by circumstance, and that doesn’t necessarily make it  _ right,  _ but it speaks to a bigger systemic injustice and...I don’t know, sometimes I think I’m fooling myself. I became an officer to make the world a better place. Sometimes it feels like I’m just upholding the status quo. I...okay, I figured it out. I’m not proud of myself today, and I want to be proud of me, and I want you to be proud of me, and today I don’t feel like someone you can be proud to stand next to.”

Skye kissed Judy’s calcaneal tendon, hummed, and moved to give the other limb the same treatment, starting with the tender fascia of her foot. "I get insecure like that too, sometimes. My whole life, I kept my head down. I worked hard, I studied harder, and I never complained about what I couldn’t have, but I never aspired to anything either. And then I met you: a  _ bunny,  _ a joke that didn’t need telling, who had just...decided that limits were for chumps. I never took risks because I didn’t want to lose. I always...well, stayed in my lane, the one society decided I belonged in. You laughed at the idea that there were lanes at all. Sometimes it  _ is  _ hard to stand next to you, Jude, but  _ not  _ because I’m not proud of you.  _ Never  _ because of that. You make me brave. You gave me that extra push I needed to make the jump from mechanic to engineer. And you know what I think about your job; I don’t like cops. I never have, I never will, and I think the ZPD is going to break your heart someday. But I’ll stand by you no matter what, and if you get your heart broken I’ll help you solder it back together, and in the meantime we’ll design our life and have lots of sex and be as good as we want.”

Judy’s  _ legs  _ sure felt good. Skye’s thumbs had made putty out of her muscles, rendering her usually-powerful legs almost useless, and like this — spread-eagle on the bed, glowing with the warmth of her girlfriend’s attention — the day didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. Skye pitched forward, one paw on each side of Judy’s torso, and nuzzled her chest, the air from each little breath ruffling Judy’s fur. She lowered her voice to something like a growl and added, “Anyone who gives my girlfriend shit must be punished; they’re in for a good old-fashioned licking. Starting with you, Cupcake.”

Somehow, Judy didn’t think that a good old-fashioned licking would involve long, flexible fox tongues with anybody else, but she felt the moist drag down her front and shivered, at both the tone and the sensation. In this scenario, Judy felt that “Cupcake” didn’t refer to the absolutely hideous dress she’d had to wear to be a bridesmaid; she really did feel like a treat. 

It  _ should  _ have felt terrifying. Instead, she felt loved and wanted and somehow safe even through the building heat in her.

Skye’s tongue swirled around each nipple in figure-eights as she made her way down, probably pulling out tufts of short fur, but she didn’t complain. Her nimble fingers circled Judy’s clitoris, drawing shapes  _ just on the edge  _ of the most tender sense-web as she slid her other paw neatly under Judy’s waist just below her tail, lifting her hips for more thorough access. Judy brought her paws up to cover her eyes and clutch at her own fur when Skye’s tongue dipped down further, but at that moment, Skye paused and reached up to grasp one of Judy’s wrists.

“Don’t hide,” she said softly, and Judy opened her eyes to see a sweet, tender smile. “You know I love you no matter what.”

She did, and it hurt, but Skye pulled away and tugged at her undies, and soon it  _ didn’t  _ hurt. It was just hot, slick licks as Skye worked at her labia and clitoris, shifting it in a diagonal track, curling around and making Judy quake. Her free paw moved from rubbing the back of Judy’s paw to rubbing her vagina again, taking care not to scrape her with those perfect claws. Judy felt dragged into Skye’s gaze as her legs and abdomen quivered and her spine arched, as her hips flared in desire, as Skye used her paw to push her pelvis closer, as she  _ licked and licked  _ and grinned at Judy’s sighs, and all Judy could do was clutch at the sheets and wait for the end to come.

She knew she was nearing her limit when her thighs moved closer together; she couldn’t hold them apart any longer, and Skye didn’t seem inclined to make her move, only kneaded and pressed and sucked like Judy was water in the desert. Judy’s heels rubbed against Skye’s triceps and her thighs squeezed so hard she worried she might hurt Her Vixen, but Skye was undeterred; she worked firmer, quicker, and Judy stretched like the sunlight in their window, pulling at the fitted sheet and hoping she wouldn’t make a mess of it. Her heels moved and her hips rocked and she  _ keened  _ as she crashed, blessed by Skye’s tongue, wrung out and de-stressed, thinking of nothing but Skye’s blue, blue eyes and the soft flannel below her.

“Oh,” she said. Even her stomach hurt, and it was still quivering. Skye’s lips were slick with her, and she wanted to get up and return the favor, but with Skye’s paws trapping her — one still below her pelvis, one gently pressing her chest to the bed, lightly stretching her spine — she couldn’t muster up the energy.

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous,” Skye whispered into the fur on her thigh before giving it a little kiss.

“So are you. You look like an angel or something,” Judy replied. Maybe her voice was shaking a little, but that was all right. “Let me up so I can-”

“Nope,” Skye said, holding Judy down as easily as always. “I told you I was going to punish you. Your punishment is that you have to wait. I get to pamper you and give you love and be  _ really good  _ to you and you don’t have permission to reciprocate until you can promise me you’ll treat yourself tomorrow. And if you lie about it, I’ll make you sleep on the couch.”

“That’s not fair,” Judy protested, wriggling, but to no avail. Skye was nearly twice her height and three times her weight. “I was thinking about eating you out all  _ morning!” _

“Better get on forgiving yourself, then,” Skye teased. She moved down to lick at Judy’s labia again, and  _ darn it,  _ that whole area was still sensitive! She tried to pout — really, she did, she wasn’t above playing to the cute stereotype if it got her what she wanted — but couldn’t manage it, not with Skye’s warm tongue circling her tired, hypersensitive clit and the sharp points of Skye’s claws pricking into Judy’s hips just right.

She knew that if she asked, Skye would let her up. If she said she needed space, Skye would give it to her. It was tempting; she wanted to give back, to make Skye feel as good as she felt, and part of her didn’t feel like she deserved to feel this good after all the mammals she’d failed to help. But that was exactly why they played this game. She knew that she gave her heart away too quickly, and too often, many times to mammals who didn’t deserve it. Sometimes she just needed to let herself be loved.

So she smiled, ran her fingers through the fur around Skye’s muzzle, and murmured, “You can be as good as you want to me.”

The scent of motor oil and floral perfume and vixen was never  _ quite  _ overpowered by the scent of sex by the end of these sessions, but that didn’t mean Skye didn’t try as hard as she could, and Judy loved her for that, too.


End file.
